


Maternal

by inknoodle



Category: Splatoon
Genre: M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Platonic Kissing, Possessive Behavior, Schrodinger’s Family, Stoic Character, parental figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26641690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inknoodle/pseuds/inknoodle
Summary: Nothing will keep Ikkan away from his guitarist, and he doesn't know why.
Kudos: 4





	1. Older Brother

**Author's Note:**

> Side Note: If you liked this, go read some of my other works. I'd really appreciate it if you left a comment, too.

It was a cold day this month. June was right around the corner. Footsteps crossed the black carpet, hands opening a door.

”Good morning, Mida-chan!”

The young inkling looked up from her synth.

”Hello,” she muttered, voice as soft as ever.

”Good morning, Murasaki!”

The sea urchin stirred in his chair, waving.

”Good morning, Ikkan!”

”Good morning, Ichiya.”

Ichiya was bright and exuberant. Though hot-headed and musically illiterate at times, he was a sweet young man. Being the guitarist and vocalist, he gave the band its charming sound and energetic personality, just like himself.

Namida was herself. She wore shirts with ties and played the synth. Although strange, her synthesizer held lots of power. Her rivalry with Paruko was understood, them both being female synth players.

Murasaki was nice. His constant drumrolls and random fidgeting proved to work well hand in hand. Legend has it that he’s unable to sit straight. That’s why Ikkan bought him a swivel chair.

Ikkan was the oldest. His face remained plain, his movements slight in playing. The first to come for soundcheck and last to leave the stage. Everybody considered him a mentor. He brushed it off as him being tall and a grown-up. A genuine, responsible one at least.

”What’s got you so cheery, Ichi?” Namida turned around, facing him.

”A new weapon! It may be empty now, but I can’t wait to use it! Maybe Noiji’s up for a game?”

”Noiji?” Again, Murasaki shuffled. “The band with the-“

Namida looked at him, annoyed.

“Oh, right.”

Whenever Namida was around, nobody mentioned Paruko. They didn't talk. The only thing between them was the petty rage in the room. It was suffocating.

...She had to come around eventually. Nobody could be this jealous of someone for this long without them making up. Besides, Ikkan couldn't tell Namida to get over herself. He'd done _some_ things before, but he'd never stoop that low.

Nearby whistling could be heard. Everybody stopped moving.

Plastic tinkled, Namida visibly upset. Her fist rested on her keyboard.

"It's that stupid sea anemone again!"

"She's not stupid! I think she's nice."

"Yeah?! Well you're-"

She stopped, looking at Murasaki.

"You're you, and you're-"

"I suggest you two stop fighting."

Ikkan put his hand on Namida's shoulder.

"Paruko's fine. Hang out with her for a while."

The door slammed open, hitting Ichiya on the back of the head. Paruko looked down.

"Wow. Are you okay, Ichi?"

"I'm fine!" He got up, stretching. "Just a little accident."

This happened almost every time she visited. Ichiya would present something and then let the door hit him in the head. Nobody told him to move because Paruko always walked in unannounced.

"Hey, do you see how hard that hit him?" whispered Nami. She leaned on the instrument, looking at Ikkan.

"I'll make sure it won't happen again. Also, don't sit like that. You'll fall."

"Alright, posture police. Personally, I-"

Paruko strolled over. That grin on her face was annoyingly sweet. Almost toxic.

"Morning, Ikkan!"

"Morning."

"Morning, Namida-"

"Don't even think about it."

She frowned. Her hair had a slight movement to it. Paruko utilized her hair to make Namida smile, no matter how much her face denied to opportunity.

Imagining Namida actually smiling in her presence was nice. Maybe, just maybe, they'd get along one day, like the rough-around-the-edges kid who was soft deep down. Every time she tried to chip at Namida's front, it only grew further. The extra 'get along' shirt wouldn't do. Just what was it that kept her at bay with this hate?

"You look so cute when you smile, even when you're faking it!"

"Get your gross appendages off of me!"

They teased each other for a while. Everybody else tuned it out entirely. One gets used to it after some time. They didn't even notice she left. Namida was steaming with rage.

"Oh. Namida!" Ichiya tilted his head. "How'd it go?"

"Bad. Why does she pay attention to me so much, anyway?"

Ichiya grabbed a mug off the table, containing something carbonated. Murasaki and Ikkan had one as well.

"From what I remember, she tries to make everyone happy."

"Everyone?" Ikkan squeezed his cup.

"Of course. By the next week, she could be going after you too!"

For once, he showed emotion. He looked mildly concerned as Ichiya took another gulp.

"By the way, is Noiji still open for a game?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited because I got Namida's nickname wrong.


	2. Chirpy Cats

Paws glided across the floor. At times, the animal would disappear to other people. They would take care of it for a while. It would eventually leave. Nobody had ever seen it outside of their normal spot. The times when it _would_ disappear were exceptional. Though cryptid-like, it was such an adorable pet. Today, it stopped by a familiar place, curling around a shoe.

"Hm?" Purple eyes stared down at the creature. "What're you doing here?"

"Meow."

"Are you lost?"

"Mrow."

Raian picked up the cat, putting it somewhere safe. They were toast if the producer found out!

The cat purred.

They looked around to see if anybody was watching, breathing a sigh of relief. What a dainty kitty. Its fur was soft and white. Cute and cuddly. This thing needed to be relocated before anybody saw it. Under a thin veil of punishment. In under a minute, Raian was sure they had moved their eyes a hundred times. They would never live this down if Noiji found out. Or Paruko.

Or anybody else, for that matter.

Again, they held it. It rolled around in their hands, purring. A nap was in order, but where? There was that old chair in the room. Raian's coat was hanging somewhere. They'd take specific coats out depending on the weather. They hated standing in front of people. Shyness was their main weakness. No performing, no going out to eat, and no hanging out with their friends. It wasn't very fun. This cat wasn't their only friend, but it felt like it for the time being. Its purring gave them comfort. The paws were small and cute.

Raian set their coat down, putting the cat on it. The cat stretched, meowing softly. Right now, it was behind a glass barrier. There was a colorful arrangement of game consoles. A Squid Jump poster was hung up there. How’d their producer let them do that?

Their producer was a leopard shark. Tall, scary, and mean. The only reason they kept the chip tune sound was because it was what their producer wanted. Raian kept the pace for their band. They didn’t care for hearing the producer growl under their breath.

Into the hallway and out one of the windows, there was a pillow on a crate. They had recalled seeing the cat there. Their pupils dilated in horror, realizing that they had to go out. This cat was way too heavy to carry. Everybody in the plaza had listened to their songs at least once, they’d know who was a member and who wasn’t.

Stepping outside, the wind blew in their face. They had on a hat and a coat with some heavy boots and glasses. One of the mysterious non-inklings had risen again. They could _feel_ eyes on them, trying to ignore it. The kitty crawled onto its podium, again curling up and falling asleep. Their mission was accomplished.

A fin grabbed the back of their jacket, throwing them back into the studio. This was about the cat, wasn’t it? Overhearing a conversation snapped them out of it.

”Ive been looking everywhere for them! Please, can we have them back?”

”Later. We need to talk alone. I don’t need anything from you, Miss Paruko.”

Paruko daintily hopped up on her toes.

”It’s a cat! No harm was done!”

”You heard what I said, didn’t you? If you want them back, stay out of it. Am I clear?”

The producer raised a fin. Paruko inched back.

”That’s what I thought.”

She utilized another fin to drag Raian into her office, not looking back. Noiji and Shikaku strolled in.

”Where’d our bassist go?” Shikaku looked at the clock. “They were here some time ago.”

“Producer. Discussion. Yadda yadda.”

”Producer? What happened this-“

”Anyways!” Paruko butted in. “How was your game with Ichiya, Noiji?”

Noiji was on the couch.

”It was fun! We won five times! Can you believe it?”

”...Not at all!”

Ichiya and Noiji were a good team, even on opposite sides. Their energetic nature mixed wonderfully. Even if they were both lacking in brains, they made up for it with top-notch inking. Sometimes. High levels don’t mean an automatic win.

They all talked about inking for a bit, stopping when they heard a noise.

Shoes shuffled across the floor. Soft purring could be heard behind the door. Out of breath, Raian returned to the studio. Their hair was ruffled and their disguise was gone completely. The same cat rested in their arms.

Raian bent down and let the cat go, almost collapsing. It skittered to a nearby corner.

”Five minutes.” They rested on the floor. “We get the cat for five minutes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you saw me post this on accident, no you didn’t.  
> I apologize for the short chapter, too. Maybe I’ll look at some writing advice on Tumblr.


	3. Lingo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this on accident again. I'm an idiot.

The sun was overhead. It was a bright, hot day. People were walking around, watching the Squid Sisters, and itching for Turf Wars. Less were skating. Ichiya thought he’d give it a try. He’d never learned the basics and, just like sheet music, thought brought effort would work. He stretched, put his feet into position, gave his bassist a thumbs-up, and tilted. Quickly.

He thought he’d be fine. He thought he wouldn’t slip up and fall. Young ones would call it a ‘gnarly bite’. The scar he got certainly looked like one. He hissed under his breath as a shadow took him in. His attempts to get away were fruitless, as he was the younger one. This was unlike any other injury before. A twisted ankle and a nasty blue gash to go with it. The figure loomed over the whimpering squid, carefully grabbing the appendage. It was oozing blood. The one solution wouldn’t be easy to handle.

Hydrogen peroxide. The body’s best defense system. Watching it bubble after placing it on a cut was fascinating. You were watching science happen! It would be perfect if it didn’t sting so much. Namida would tend to hold her bandmate’s hand when it came near. The way she kept his pain at bay was astounding, like some sort of miracle. She’d do that today if she could. She wasn't around. Why was she out now, of all times to be out?

Ichiya was still on the couch. He turned his face away, trying to get the other one to release his ankle. One could clearly see it twitching in pain. The process of fixing it up was quick. All that was left was for him to ease up on it. No more Turf Wars, no more shows, and no more skating, even if he'd hurt himself from it. Though adorably naive, he tended to be selfish and think he was good at anything. Flashy guitar riffs and resounding vocals provided his sound entirely, no music theory or passion involved. He'd learn soon enough. Maybe even today.

"Remember," bellowed the tall one. "Stay here. I'll go find Namida."

"Stay here?!" He mocked, slowly losing consciousness. "Yeah, right."

In his half-asleep state, the young guitarist dragged himself up, only to be pushed back on the couch. Only one hand was used, but it was quite strong. It pinned him at his chest as he struggled, whining again. He went to bite the hand that pinned him, but he couldn't tilt his head in a way to do so. Watching him writhe and grumble was a strange experience. Taking control of the situation, the one who worked alongside him grabbed a blanket, tucking it into the folds of the couch.

"You're tired, aren't you? Get some rest. I'll be back."

He walked away, grabbing a few more things before leaving. Some stuffed toys. A training dummy, a squid, and the Firefin mascot. Reluctantly, his pupil grabbed them, slowly falling dormant. Something that would happen to _him_ often would be this:

Watching anything on the TV, the audio would slowly mute itself. His eyes would blur. Soon, he wouldn't be able to move. It was hard for him to do so, but if he couldn't, he'd soon fall asleep, waking up a bit later. What he was hearing would drag itself into his dreams. This would be sure to happen in the empty studio. He was alone. So alone. Thoughts of escaping cluttered his head. He tried to grab his phone, which was under the couch. A few unsuccessful swings of his arms drawing near until he finally got it. He tapped on it.

 _Still charged_ , he thought. This would come in handy. He called up Namida. Two times she didn't pick up. Another try.

"Hello?"

Birds were chirping on the other line. It was obvious she was at Flounder Heights. She was off to visit her parents. While not far from the studio, it would take a good half-hour to reach from here.

"Hi! How are you doing?"

"I..um...broke my ankle. Or twisted it."

"Did you? How bad is it, one to ten?"

He listened and looked. There was something wrapped around it, but it was still pretty bad.

"I think it's alright. Unfortunately, you-know-who won't let me leave."

"Where are you trying to go?"

"Around, I guess," he squirmed out of the covers, sitting straight up. "I just don't know how to."

"I'll tell you."

She detailed a few plans. Ichiya could either:

  * Use a scooter and stay out of sight, saving himself from any embarrassment.
  * Try and find the emergency crutches.
  * Or visit another band.



The last plan was the most important. He could limp his way to a bus, talking to Murasaki about his location and where he was at or going straight to Flounder Heights. Since the bus parking was a few minutes away from Namida's parent's apartment, he could just go to wherever Mura was. If it was Urchin Underpass, that would be easy. Flounder Heights was close, considering the highway. It sounded like Ichiya's type of adventure.

"You haven't even thought about the other plans?"

"Doesn't matter too much. I just really like your ideas, Nami!"

She giggled. 

"Thank you."

After she hung up, Ichiya stretched, trying to shake himself awake. He tested out his stance. It did sting a bit, but other than that, he was fine. When he tried walking, it got worse. Maybe he really did have to limp there. Putting on clothes that normal, non-famous inklings wore, he shuffled to the bus. Luckily, the fare wasn't much. The bus driver was a whale shark and very friendly. He didn't forget his phone, using it to callff etc Murasaki.

"Good morning! Where are you right now, anyway?"

"...Hello, Ichi. I'm heading to Urchin Underpass right now."

Just as he said that, the driver announced that their stop, the underpass, was close.

"Good. Do you have any scooters or anything on hand?"

"I got my wagon."

"You own a wagon?!"

"Yes! Bye, I'll see you there!"

Sure enough, Murasaki donned a wagon, telling Ichiya to hop in. He dragged him along the complex, stopping at the corridor that had apartment 268. This was where her parents were. She told everybody numerous times. Would this old rusty thing be able to get up the stairs?

"Namida, we're here!"

Namida, being Namida, jumped down from the railing, offering to carry Ichiya up. Halfway through, he fell asleep.

"I'm done visiting, anyway. We can leave if we want. He said he wanted to go around, he got his wish."

"But we just got here! What could possibly happen to make us have to go?"

Darkness covered the area they stood in. The shadow was here again, the same deep voice from last time. He grabbed Ichiya, holding him in his arms. All he gave was a disappointed stare, signaling the others to walk to the bus at the back. The ride was uncomfortably silent. Ever since the whole _Metalopod_ thing happened, everybody knew the terrifying potential of this guy and his lungs. He spoke when they reached a sidewalk close to home.

"I need to start watching you guys more."

"You're not mad, right?"

"No. I didn't think you'd see your parents today, but it's nothing. I hope Ichiya's alright."

Even if shadows are terrifying, sometimes they're good.


	4. Sub-Chapter: The Metalopod Thing

The recording studio was nearly soundless, other than small talk. They started this band as a bunch of random kids. How did they, Squid Squad, become the freshest band of the year? Murasaki, the band's drummer, was roaming around the halls. Ikkan, the band's bassist, was in the bathroom. Namida didn't speak much. Ichiya didn't like being alone.

"Has anybody ever said that your voice was too squeaky?" Namida asked.

"Hmph!" Ichiya scrunched up his face. "Of course not. Not that I remember."

"It's alright to admit if you're upset or not-"

"I'm not mad! Just..."

When the band first started, Ichiya couldn't read sheet music and was a little bit hot-headed. He always had some sort of potential from the start, but he didn't feel experienced. Murasaki at least knew how to play. Ikkan had a passion for music. Namida knew music theory. Ichiya was Ichiya. 

And he felt sad.

"Am I as good as you guys?"

"Obviously. How do you think we got so fresh?"

Ichiya gulped, trying not to cry.

"Thank you, Namida."

"You're very welcome." 

The door was opened before either of them got in another word. Not like they would, anyway.

"Emergency meeting," said Ikkan, Murasaki by his side. "It's probably one of our songs again."

Sure enough, Squid Squad's producer slammed a vinyl down on the table.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

"What," Murasaki tilted his head. "The album?"

"No, this!"

The producer played a snippet of one of their songs, Metalopod. It featured loud screaming, guitar riffs, and colorful synths. This is something he did a lot. Complaining about nothing. He did this with each one of their songs, but this one ticked him off the most. Instead of sitting up straight, he leaned forward.

"You can't have this play in Turf Wars! Who came up with this idea?!"

They all pointed towards Ikkan.

He sighed, retracting the disk.

"I should've known. You let him pick the song idea, and this is what happens!"

"Mister, it's only a song-"

" _Don't_ ," he pointed towards the vocalist, Ichiya. "Call me 'Mister', Ichiya. I know exactly what I'm doing, there's no time for this."

"Well, I could offer you a cloud demo if you want-"

"No. None of those will work. You need to get that song taken off the charts quickly."  
The band members frowned, except for Ikkan. He thought it was pretty good. He didn't vocalize this, of course, but he did listen to it from time to time.

"I'm done talking, you're all dismissed."

"Wait, mister. I have a reason it should be kept up."

Their producer looked furious with Namida, while the latter was sitting in a neat posture, even clasping her hands together. This was a telltale sign that the boys needed to leave. Even if Nami-chan got into trouble the most, she had a killer way to convince people.

"You three, part, now."

Ikkan, Ichiya, and Murasaki sat on a bench outside, waiting for Namida's lecture to be over. When their manager was mad, he was mad. This type of behavior was normal for him. He was a slender, more humanoid anglerfish, with nails for teeth and an iceberg for a heart.

Ichiya rubbed his eyes.

"D'you think he likes the cloud demo?"

"Probably not. I don't think he heard it yet."

"What if he hates us?"

"He can't! He's our manager, of course he can't."

"What about the cookies?"

"Cookies?"

"I brought some from home."

Before Ichiya and Murasaki could continue, Namida made it out in one piece.

"Our manager said we could keep the song."

"Really? How'd you do it?"

"I said that it was already playing in Turf War, and there was no use removing it now."

"Wow..." Ichiya's eyes twinkled. "You're so cool, Namida!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sub-chapters are drabbles and things I made in my free time on other sites.


	5. Sub-Chapter: Parukola

The other recording studio was also nearly soundless. A soda can could be heard opening in the room. Whenever nobody else was around, Paruko would drink this specific soda, called Squidcola. Her favorite flavor was lemonade.  
  
As she grabbed it, the can felt cold around her fingers. She held it with both hands.  
  
She remembered drinking it before her band, Chirpy Chips, recorded Split and Splat. That was as energetic as she got.  
  
Until now, that is.  
  
She threw the can up to her face and drank, spilling some on the floor. Her fish drank it up.  
  
Paruko hyperventilated, feeling the soda course through her veins. She wanted to run. She wanted to dash. She wanted to scream. She felt...  
  
Alive.  
  
Raian opened the door.  
  
"Paruko, I-"  
  
They looked at Paruko. Her eyes were wide open.  
  
"Raian, Raian!" she jumped around. "I'm glad you're here!"  
  
"Paruko, are you alright?"  
  
"I am! I'm so alright!"  
  
She shook Raian to the point they felt sick.  
  
"I'm feeling alive! I'm good, I'm glad I-"  
  
She made various unintelligible noises.  
  
"I'll be back, I gotta go get Noiji."  
  
Paruko was now babbling in the mic room, playing with her synth.  
  
"Is that our newest song?" Noiji asked.  
  
"No. No more songs, no more cola."  
  
Raian was sweating profusely.  
  
Paruko slammed her head into the glass.  
  
_"COLAAAAAAA!"_  
  
"That's what she's like?!"  
  
"I warned you, Iji."  
  
"I'm sure we'll work something out."  
  
Half an hour went by before Shikaku found Paruko, Raian, and Noiji asleep on the couch.  
  
At least they sorted themselves out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just posted this sub-chapter to say thank you for reading this! I'm quite proud of it. Short, I know. But I'll do better. I promise.


	6. Shark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An extra-long chapter, just for you guys.

Live shows were quite rough. If you were to fall into the crowd, somebody could take something. Fans were likely to be obsessive. After the ankle incident, Squid Squad was able to do more, unharmed, along with the other bands. They'd also be on a big bus together going to the venue and back home. That's what the label said, at least. Band members were bored, tired, and sweaty, strewn around the bus in different places. Kuze was missing from the bus roster and would walk home instead. He didn't like public transport.

Around this time, the sky was painted with orange and pink, somewhat like ice cream. Clouds were visible. This bus was taking a long time to get to their destination. During their live shows, most of the and members wore suits themed with their tours, picked by some fashion designer within their label. They were disgustingly tight. This night in specific was hot, making any unlucky suit-wearer sweat half of their ink sac if they had one. Taka of Hightide Era fame was especially unlucky. He'd worn a suit that was black *and* leather despite Nishida telling him not to pick it. He ignored this, surprising no one. Nishida was the only sane man in his band. The only sane man that was present. 

Why was this day in particular so hot? 

At the back of the bus, there were multiple hats, funny costumes, and whatnot. Most of them were for Namida to put on, her being the one who discovered them and fit them personality-wise. Goofy cowboy hats and fancy glasses were all around. This was the storage closet, the otherwise best and most exciting place on the bus that wasn't the driver's seat. Perhaps she'd hide in there for a while. After all, these scarves, ponchos, and, as stated before, miscellaneous items could be good blanket material.

Noiji was already cooped up inside. His discarded suit was lying nearby, but it would take a while to find it in here. He was staring helplessly at his phone, hoping for something to entertain him. The service here was bad, which was scarily unusual. This bus was the best bus around, like a second home. If one had it all to themselves, they'd stay in it forever. Assuming how far away home was, both would be an example. Namida yawned, giving away her hiding spot. Noiji was quite happy to see her, even giving a smile. It was surreal to see him on low power. He was always the opposite. To fix this, she watched his movements and mimicked them. He thought it was pretty funny, even if he was on the brink of falling asleep. A weak laugh escaped his toothy grin before he succumbed to his sleepiness. Namida looked for a funny hat, now a bit woozy.

On the other side of things, Ichiya and Paruko were having a staring contest. They hung upside down on their seats, drank soda, and did everything else, eyes unblinking. Nobody stopped to ask if they were crying, as they already knew what was going on. Paruko finally broke, planting herself on the carpet face-down. She writhed around, not sure what to do. If there was an arcade machine nearby, she'd be fully occupied. 

Ichiya swarmed near the minifridge, looking for anything he'd like. He stared at a water bottle for a long time before he took it, proceeding to put it back in. Trees waved around as the bus passed them. By now, they were beginning to look like freakish silhouettes. Taking a bus was long enough, how would walking do? It was starting to seem like a viable option. He dragged himself over to Paruko's many game handhelds and equipment. As sketchy as she was, her skills were concerningly good. He'd heard of a story where she played a game for so long without eating or drinking that she passed out. This, of course, terrified any witnesses. Paruko thought it was funny. She sat with her legs apart and chin on the floor where she wouldn't be in anybody's way. Her eyes had lost their zany glow the first hour into the ride. She almost wanted to say something, but she held off. 

Meanwhile, an older squid stared at his case. His eyes were red, as he fell asleep multiple times. This time, he'd keep himself awake. His band without him was chaotic. Of course, that wasn't to discredit anybody else. They all came with their skills and flaws, even him. He would sometimes try and make sure they were at full potential, exerting their musical power the best they could, but he didn't want to get too attached to something that wouldn't last for long. As much as he didn't want to admit it, they were just a fad. The more he repeated it, the worse he felt. As of now, he was too tired to care and too lazy to cheer himself up. Hand over his mouth, he sighed, making the first audible noise to be heard from somebody's mouth on the bus in about an hour.

His sea urchin bandmate, asleep right next to him, was quite nice. He, one to have self-control, was lucky that he wasn't thinking about poking him. It would be funny if those spikes had the likeness of feathers, able to be plucked out easily. There was something going around about a sea anemone poking a sea urchin and having a spike go through them entirely. It wouldn't hurt, and they were thought to have the consistency of gelatin. What if they tasted like that, too? The squid eyed Paruko.

A loud sputter from the bus told everybody they'd be home in just a few minutes. Immediately, Paruko scrambled for the supply closet. Even if it would've been a fun story to tell people about how they got stuck on a bus, she wasn't risking it. Ichiya would go as well. Crawling through all the equipment, as she said, felt like being Lara Croft. Ichiya didn't know who Lara Croft was, but his ears twitched upon hearing she was a human. She smiled, thinking that, if humans ever came back, she'd get to say hello. Throughout the conversation, Namida and Noiji were safely recovered. Unfortunately, Namida was known to drool if her naps came unprovoked. She was known to drool in general. Paruko was the handywoman of the bus, bringing something that others could wipe their face with.

Namida's voice was creaky after her nap, but she got it to work after a cleared throat.

"How?" she said.

"It's a thing I do," said the handywoman. "I like sanitizing things."

Noiji rose up, arching his back and stretching for a while.

"You'd love Museum D'Alfonsino then. They clean the place every other day." 

"I wouldn't blame them," The vocalist of the same band played with her hat. "People touch things. They're gross. Their hands are dirty-"

"Are you guys getting off or not?" called a voice at the closet's door.

"Hmph! Fine, fine. You're real sassy, Mida-chan."

"Wh--"

Her face contorted into a look of shock and confusion. Nobody had ever called her that except for Ichiya, and even he didn't call her by the name that much. She rushed out, Noiji and Paruko following along. In contrast to the hot afternoon, the cool night took over, most evident when the bus pulled away, all of the past inhabitants now outside. It was a breath of fresh air for everybody, suit-wearers or Paruko. She wasn't big on suits, instead wearing a dress.

Raian, wearing a pair of goggles for _their_ show's theme, looked nervous. They stared ahead, figuring out that this was another studio. 

"...This isn't home," They slipped off their headgear. "And if it was, why would we all be here?"

"Half of us _do_ live at or near Flounder heights," pondered Shikaku.

"Whatever the case, this doesn't look like it. Why are we here?"

Going in was the correct answer, a receptionist at the front pointing them to the eighth floor's Room A. The boss of all their producers was awaiting, other rumors from other artists claiming that he was scarier than any other producer. Prim, proper, strict, sharp-toothed, and anything else terrifying. The elevator taking them up, which, surprisingly, could fit ten people, had a broken and ruined button for most of the other floors. Floor 8's button was pristinely clean. It seemed like they would be the first to meet him. Still tired, Namida hit the button.

Ichiya watched the number go up on the bar signaling whether they were going up or down. Ikkan leaned on the guardrail, instrument case next to his feet. Murasaki examined the colors and torn stickers inside the elevator. Paruko and Noiji were smushed next to one another, Raian closeby. Nishida tried to keep Taka awake, both on the floor. Shikaku patiently waited by the door, waiting for it to make the jingle sound they found so pleasant.

Opening the door to Floor 8's Room A revealed a shark. Ichiya screamed as he closed the door back, the boss assuming it was some strange draft. Like something out of an old human sitcom, Namida took a peek through the sliver of the unclosed door. She flinched, walking right into Ikkan.

"Well," The well-dressed squid turned her around. "What's he look like?"

"A shark. He's a shark."

"It's nothing, Namida. He's a shark, what's the worst that could-"

"Don't! You'll jinx it."

Ten chairs were lined up across the wall, each with a name on the front. The boss was taller than anybody expected. He stretched his fins and sighed in relief, looking dead ahead at Squid Squad's lead vocalist.

"Goodness. I'd wondered when you'd show up, the lot of you, but that's beside the point. How did the _tour_ go, Squid Squad?"

Not wanting Ichiya to mess up his words or potentially embarrass himself, Ikkan vouched.

"It went well. Kind of hot, though."

"I see. And would anybody care to back up that sentiment?"

Everybody raised their hands.

"Oh, dear. I'm terribly sorry. I have to consider if those suits were bothering you, by any means."

Taka leaned forward in his chair. "A little. They heat up pretty quickly."

"I told you not to pick it."

"Do you even _know_ how I dress, Nishi?"

A stern clear of the boss' throat fixed that debacle up. He went on to ask Paruko why she didn't wear her assigned clothing.

"It was really suffocating. No way I could ever wear that!"

This cracked his calm outer layer.

"When I say you do something, you do it, correct?"

She squeaked. "Ha, o-of course!"

"Great. Moving on. I'll need you to stay here to secure a few deals and emails and such."

As expected, nobody reacted too well to that.

"This is for your own good. I'm the boss of all of you," He again looked towards Ichiya. "And I know how stubborn you can be. Is that understood?"

"But it's so late," he groaned. "We'll be stuck here forever!"

"If I say it, you do it. Did you _not_ understand?!"

Ikkan stood up, walking too close to the boss' desk. "That's no way to speak to him."

"Really now? How interesting. Sit back down."

"And what if I don't? If you think I'll let you treat him that way, you're dead wrong."

Like the argument with Squid Squad's producer, everybody was signaled to leave, but not before hearing a vital piece of the disagreement.

"If you were a better person, we wouldn't be here right now."

"If you were a better boss, people wouldn't be signing off your label left and right!"

The door slammed back in place as the rest of Squid Squad walked together. Everybody didn't show it, but they were terrified. He'd never been this angry, or emotional, throughout their entire trip as a band so far. There were close calls, but this was the breaking point. Would he really risk physical violence because of the hurt feelings of his guitarist? The more Ichiya thought about the consequences, the uneasier he grew. Fortunately for him, there was a vending machine nearby.

This floor was the natural habitat of the big, famous bands (excluding the Squid Sisters), even spelling out their selected studios in big letters _and_ braille. Namida and Murasaki waited at either side of the machine while the guitarist got his drink and a few other things, including some gummies.

"You think Ikkan's okay?" he asked tearfully. "I know it's been three minutes or so, but still."

Namida pat him on the back. "Aw, cheer up. I'm sure he'll be fine. I could play your favorite synthesizer riff if you want."

He sniffled, giving a tiny smile.

"I guess that would help."

Creaking filled the hall, with the two squids and one urchin standing up immediately. This wasn't who they thought it was, though, with the figure being too wide and the suit looking quite different. Unless the lighting from the barely working wall lamps was hitting the individual the wrong way, this was not their squid. Everybody thought of a plan as heavy footsteps approached, but their brains were jumbled from the sleep deprivation and nerve-wracking idea of what could happen to them. Before they could think of any words, the steps stopped by them.

"What are you three doing?"

"Oh! We were just--" Murasaki looked at the vending machine. "Getting some stuff. We weren't--"

"If you want me to understand you, use proper language."

He rumbled away as Murasaki showed all the emotion he could, only through his eyes. Mysteriously enough, he had a mouth, but it barely moved. His eyes did all the talking, and as soon as he was out of earshot...

"Can you believe that guy?! Ugh, he's such a...he's..."

"I get it. This guy's insane! I'm surprised there weren't any reports on him killing somebody!"

'Killing somebody' was all they needed to say to make the self-proclaimed prodigy to lose his mind, curling up on the floor and burrowing against it. Sure, it was an outlandish reaction, but the thought of their band being over in a matter of half an hour was brain-breaking. Namida rushed over to him, saying all the kind phrases she knew, as Murasaki slid the drink he bought over to him. His muffled crying stained the floor with tears. His bandmates (and friends) were able to calm him down, drying his face. He was bitter about crying, thinking it made him weak.

After the shark left, the right person stumbled out, walking with a bit of a slouch. His suit was discarded, now revealing his undershirt, Squid Jump-themed, which was strange. He huffed and puffed, dragging his case behind him, only picking it up when he reached his band members. The position he took covered his neck, extra measures including a casual tug on his shirt. Namida tried to check it out, but he reassured the girl it was fine.

"You're acting really suspicious about your neck. Come on! Is it a cool vampire bite?"

"Nami, just leave it alone. I'm fine."

"Blah blah blah, 'I'm fine' this, 'I'm fine' that! It's no biggie, let me--"

Pulling aside his leg, she discovered a mark with included redness around it. She gulped, then squinted with disbelief.

"Mura, come look at this."

"Are you sure? You don't sound too happy."

"It's _important_."

Mura dragged himself over, eyes swarming around the strange mark. Judging by the small indents and such, this seemed to come from some sort of thick string. Namida took a breath then drew closer, saying the same thing as the curious urchin, just with missing anger and emphasis.

"He choked you with your own bass case?"

"He choked you with your own bass case?!"

"He did not! It's not any choking, I just-"

The sea urchin's mouth moved for a change. "No, there's no excuse for this! We have to take action."

"Fine. What do you think will happen if we do?"

He didn't have any movements for that.

"That's what I thought. I've been assigned to some sort of correctional facility--"

Namida gasped.

"You're going to jail?!"

"I am _not_ going to jail. It's something about..." He grabbed his phone out of his pocket. "Correcting my behavior."

He burst out laughing, more so just a quiet and raspy wheeze. This was the second most emotion he'd shown so far, all during the same day.

"Let's just make the deal already," Ichiya yawned. "I'm tired."

"Nope. He said that, 'because of my actions', we're not getting the deal. They'll just come to us."

"So we're going home?"

"I guess you could say that," he picked up the one he risked his neck for. "If that's what you're excited about."

They obviously wouldn't walk, but nobody knew who could drive. Ikkan said he'd do it and, of course, everybody didn't want him to. After nearly getting choked out, nobody wanted him to take the wheel, so Namida was the next one up, saying what everybody feared as soon as she hopped into the driver's seat.

"I can't drive."

"This is what I mean. I'll drive."

"No, you won't! It's not cheating if you don't get caught."

"Oh my god," He unbuckled his seat, putting Namida in the back against her will. "I know how to drive, I _will_ drive."

Namida scrunched up her face, only fixing it in the midst of a few words.

"The first one to get inside gets to pick what bass riff I play."

"Start the car, start the car!" 

Ikkan hooked his phone up to their assigned car, which _was_ assigned just in case they didn't have one. How convenient. He didn't play any heavy metal, alternatively starting up some calming music. The glove compartment contained what he needed the most: an energy drink. Murasaki grabbed the can.

"Please don't drink that."

"If I don't, I won't be allowed to drive again. And _that_ means no Squid Sisters."

"...Fine."

He popped the can open, downing it in an impressively quick gulp. The car beeped and started moving as his senses were filled with just enough adrenaline to make it back home. At least he survived.


	7. Dreamer

Inkopolis was colorful tonight, more than usual. It was dark, and in the plaza, the outfits of the squids were unusually bright. Ichiya wore what he normally would outside, but to his shock, his clothes had changed colors. They were cartoonishly flashy. He found that everybody was out except for Murasaki, shorter than usual and wielding a baseball bat. Murasaki didn't have a baseball, at least considering prior knowledge. If he could speak, he would've asked about it.

Perhaps today wasn't a speaking day. Being selectively mute was unlike him, and he, again, would've said something. Something inside of him refused to let him make any noise.

Murasaki drifted away from him. This gave him hope, as this was something he'd do, but he signaled for the squid to come along. A gate he didn't even know was there had been opened, leading to the train. Nobody was inside. He shook his head, pointing somewhere else. The urchin wasn't going that way, dragging him left of the tracks. Near these tracks was a stage used for Turf War, only covered by huge buildings. There weren't train tracks visible when playing. Maybe it was relocation. He had no time to think while his companion pushed forward. His phone wasn't working at all, and even if it was, nobody had conversed with him. If they really were away, he'd wake up to at least one notification.

Noiji was nearby, evidenced by cheerful whistling. His clothes had also changed color. He liked bright things, so maybe Ichiya just needed to clear his eyes. At the next turn, he disappeared. Now there were only two people walking by the train, which hadn't started on its usual course. The turn after that, they stopped. Everything farther than their stopping point was foggy. Big sheets of clouds covered the area. An alley was nearby.

The rivaling guitarist was against the wall, asleep. While not out of the question for him, why would he be here?

Something cold touched his hands. When he looked back at the alley, blood was splattered all over the walls. All over the bricks, on the floor, and on Murasaki's baseball bat. The cold objects he held in his hands was a wrench. His eyes went wide when he saw hot pink liquid around it. It was the same color as what was on Noiji. Had he went blank for a few seconds? The smell of metal filled his senses and his brain. He would never do this. Not a day in his life. Fog poured into the alley, multiplying at a terrifyingly rapid rate. He stopped being mute, whimpering as his knees became weak.

A hand stroked his face, a very pale one at that.

"Is everything alright?" questioned the owner. "Namida saw you acting strange while you were sleeping."

He couldn't say anything coherent. It would come out as nonsensical garbage from his dreams.

What he did say was, "I killed him."

"Ichiya, you didn't 'kill' _anybody_. It was just a bad dream you had."

"I did. I killed him."

"Alright, I'll bite. Who did you kill?"

"Noiji. A-and I saw him slumped over, and there was this wrench and..."

He fell into the other man's arms, whimpering and shaking his head.

"I would never kill him. Not a day in my life."

"I know, I know."

The other man hugged him tighter as his mental state got worse and worse. All he could do was repeat the same thing over again.

"I killed him, I killed him, I killed him."

They sat there for a few moments, the eldest unwilling to leave him in a pit of despair. He finally got up, leaving.

"You should eat," he said. "You'll feel better."

He still wasn't over what happened, even with the comfort. His imagination was big, but not big enough to think of something else and clear it from his mind. A somber shadow loomed over him. There was a lump in his throat, and his efforts to stop thinking about his dream were in vain. Soon enough, salty tears streamed down his face. He tried breathing in an attempt to stop them, but to no avail. They wouldn't stop. He was a crybaby and they wouldn't stop. He wanted to forget it and they wouldn't stop. The only thing he could do was smash his face into his pillow, sniffling. All the tissues he grabbed crumpled against his tears as his desperation to stop the waterworks worsened. He went back to the comfort of his pillow, wrapping himself up in his covers.

Something he had been told as a child was about bottling up his emotions. If he kept them in a glass bottle, it would burst from the pressure sooner or later. That something was from his mom. She told him, yet he didn't listen. He was ignorant to say yes, knowing he'd ignore it later on.

The reporter came in, looking at the supposedly sleeping boy. She remembered him talking with somebody else earlier. Possibly, he was just that tired. Today was quite mellow. It was cloudy and storming outside. While rainwater didn't do much damage, barely anybody was outside. She looked at his posters, laughing in her head as she stopped by their advertisement for Squidforce. Her nightgown folded as she sat on the floor, examining every bit of it. The shirt she got to keep was safe inside her closet. She walked back out, looking for something to do.

Time passed. Another report on the stages, if anybody would even come and play a game. Not even the Sisters were into their reporting, seeing as they yawned and rubbed the sleep from their eyes. Ikkan, practicing (more so fumbling), in his room, wondered what they did on their off time. Ichiya hadn't eaten yet, as the tired and shaken squid hadn't passed by his room. He usually ate before now, five o'clock in the afternoon, and there's no way he went to sleep again. Granted, he woke up quite late, and the time had passed quickly.

Peeking into his room, he saw him. Was he sleeping? A quick nudge answered no. He turned around, eyes wide. This was the most disturbed he had ever looked. Yesterday left him a wreck, poor guy. Every word his mentor spat out, he flinched. 

"What're you doing here?"

"I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me."

"Mad?"

Again, the tears flowed. He received a hug and reassurance.

"I'm not mad at you, Ichi. Did you lose your appetite?"

He knew his words would come out unintelligible and warbly, so he kept silent, only shaking his head. As soon as the smell came and the fog rolled in, his stomach became nonexistent, as well as his will to do anything else. He wanted a redo. To go back to sleep and try again. What he got was far from it. He didn't want any kind words. Those were pity words. Pity was the worst thing you could feel towards him.

"Hm. Anything you'd prefer?"

Another shake of the head, followed by another sink into the duvet. Ikkan, however, was patient. He waited for a clear answer, standing straight up.

"Would you like me to leave?"

"Marshmallows."

"Marshmallows? Alright."

They were inside a kitchen cabinet next to the fridge. To promote a Squid Sisters concert, an idea arose about one of the band members wearing entirely bright pink. It was unanimously decided that Ikkan would do it, despite him having disdain for the color and not being into the aesthetic of it. Another member of another band would wear all green, but it was normal for them to do that. Callie and Marie-themed marshmallows were released, with Squid Squad getting to keep three packs of their choosing, including a special chocolate one in the making. These were stamped with edible whatever, the symbol being a peace sign. How adorable.

These were laced with brain-rotting sweetness, just what the people liked. Or would've. He carried a bag upstairs, handing it to Ichiya, watching him slowly open it. Fitting Callie's personality, some marshmallows were big, some small, and some medium-sized. Ichiya grabbed a handful, stuffing them in his mouth. Ikkan grabbed a large one, taking the world's smallest bite.

"It's pink."

Ichiya stopped eating.

"What?"

It wasn't too horrifying now, but he didn't forget the dream. He squeezed the marshmallow, watching the strawberry goop come out of it. Ikkan felt a little bad. His bandmate's eyes weren't showing any fear or sadness despite him clearly being upset. To cheer him up, he rubbed his knuckles along the other's head, holding his neck with a free arm. They called this something, but he didn't know what.

"Don't think about it too hard," He let go, still doing the knuckle thing. "Taking care of yourself is more important."

"I guess. 'M not really hungry..."

"You aren't? What _do_ you want?"

"I don't know."

Ikkan stopped doing the knuckle thing, looking at his bandmate's eyes again. He didn't look too sad, but there wasn't any light in his eyes. It was strange to see him this way.

"Tired?"

"Maybe."

"Hm," he looked out the window. "Well, it's quite dark outside. You could do anything with your consciousness for all I care."

The door closed behind him as he left to go back to his room.

Again, it was night. The location was far from their city, with the tower just barely visible. Another city was across from where they stood. Only the wind could be heard. Silence at night, especially wherever this was, felt surreal, yet calming. The elder held out his hands in what looked like a kind gesture. Ichiya walked closer, getting pulled into a hug. Even if the way it was performed felt soulless, something stirred in him. 

A fountain of tears poured from him unwillingly, staining the grass with red. Ikkan held him closer, the pupil unable to pull away. The moonlight waltzed over them elegantly, and everything seemed just right. Splotches of red began to rise from the ground, dissolving into a spew of butterflies. They warped into an orb-like shape, floating right above where the pupil stood. Staying in character, the mentor overlooked them, focusing on the mental stability of the one they embraced.

Some butterflies strayed from their path, landing in the now open hands of Ichiya. They were clumped together and had to be about a pound each. When the tears stopped and he couldn't cry anymore, they went back, making a beautiful, glowing stream of red insects. He almost missed something come from the person in front of him.

A smile.

Ichiya woke up in a cold sweat, managing to knock his head on the wall. The same person who comforted him before was stroking his hair now, obviously in a state of half-sleep. He sat in a chair, eyes lifeless and legs spread as far as it would let him. Ichiya tried to move away, only to be met with a gentle tug, pulling him back to square one. Another limb, not as pale, tangled with his arm. The socks weren't matching and their pajamas were striped, giving a clear hint as to who it was. She was sleeping in an uneven style, hand grabbing at his neck before stopping at his chest. Her head moved next to his.

"Ikkan," he muttered. "I know you're there. You can let go now."

"Everything's fine. You're okay."

"Thank you, but-"

"Just breathe for a minute. You're fine, you're fine..."

The pull on his shirt was too tight for him to get away. If so, he'd get a scar on his neck. He didn't want to move again, but he wasn't sleepy enough to lay back down. One thing he could do was replace himself with Namida, but, by now, Ikkan kept a highly protective eye on Ichiya. Namida's body type was almost like his, but there were small differences. For Ikkan, those were easy to point out. Still, he had to be a minute away from falling asleep, so he likely wouldn't know. After the grip on his shirt and hair was released, he rolled over, putting Namida in his place.

Ikkan's hands brushed over her face, stopping at her hair. If this was Ichiya, his hair was awfully short now. His senses were dimmed, but he wasn't an idiot. He rose to full height, opening his eyes and looking for the squid who'd already slipped past him. That squid's location was in the bathroom. There were two, both shared at times. All the first bathroom's toothbrushes were discernable from one another. Orange, blue, purple, and green. Something was different today, right on the mirror. Stickers were all over a paper complimenting every member except for Ikkan. This was strangely positive for _him_ to write, but the words weren't exactly lovey-dovey either. A bag was attached to Ichiya's note, non-transparent. He opened it, and it was then he discovered a polaroid of him and Noiji. How nice.

"...Ichi?"

The slippery squid dropped his keepsake, staring ahead.

"Hello."

"What're you still doing up?"

"Another dream I had."

"Huh. Who woulda thought?"

He grabbed Ichiya, who didn't slip out of his hands this time, taking him back to bed.

"I don't wanna go to sleep," he whined.

"You get used to it. I'll give you six minutes before you pass out. Goodnight, Ichi."

"Goodnight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little side note: These two aren't romantically involved. Ship them all you want, that's fine, but I just wanted to get that off my chest.


	8. How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Squid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AKA: Scarce Egomania.

Today was rare. One of the days where an alarm was set, specifically for three in the afternoon. After that supposedly empty threat two days ago from their producer, Ikkan was finally going to that facility. His body felt heavy today, like it wanted him to go back to bed. He reluctantly slumped out of his sheets, greeting Namida down the hall.

Nami looked at the ground, then up at him. She smiled.

"Good morning, Ikkan."

He dragged himself into the bathroom, observing how he'd slept the night before. If he wanted to get out of another appointment, he had to dress nice and act proper, and what was a better start to that than washing your face? The entire time he did these tasks, he kept looking at himself in the mirror. Tired, groggy, and terrifying. A perfect beast. He poked his eyes and tugged at his ears. If this was the best he could do, how'd he get this far? 

Murasaki walked by where he did all this.

"Morning, Ikkan."

"Good morning."

"What're you doing?"

"Getting ready." 

He dried off his face with the same towel he always used. Maybe he'd have to buy more fabric softener for it. The way it rubbed against his face felt like a butter knife.

The inside of his closet contained many pants and shirts yet barely any suits or proper wear. He'd ask Namida for something, but he was almost twice her size, and she was especially small. Maybe they were right about him being a violent beast. Who would wear clothes like this and not be that? He squinted, reaching for a suit that wasn't tour related. It was basic and white, so it was the best option. To get confirmation, he visited Ichiya. A star acquaintance would never let him down.

"You look tired. What's that suit for?"

"Goin' out."

"For real? With a lady?!"

Ikkan winced, nearly letting go of the suit.

"Yeah. Something like that."

Downstairs, he had a lot of options to pick from. He went with pancakes. Basic, but a staple of every breakfast. He'd probably have to wipe off his face after, due to all the syrup, but he paid no mind. He sat in a chair while his food sat in the microwave. His appetite wasn't telling his brain what he really wanted, and what his brain wanted was to go back to bed. He was surprised that he wasn't in the morgue right now.

In true beastly fashion, he slouched and went to the microwave as it dinged. After that, he stared at his pancakes. He needed to be at least in the building by four, and it was thirty minutes until then. All he could stomach was half a pancake before returning upstairs. He was in a lazily picked out shirt and his underwear, so, unless he could dress himself in ten minutes, there wasn't anything efficient he could do.

When he was dressed, his teeth were brushed by now. This was the stupidest outfit in the history of ever. He wanted it to be over with. 

Namida stopped him at the door. "Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Really? I didn't know you-"

"I don't. Just don't tell Ichiya I don't actually have a date."

"Can I at least come with you?"

"I wish."

She frowned, letting go of his waist.

"Oh. Okay. Goodbye, Ikkan."

"Seeya."

He already ruled out everything besides walking. There was no way he was calling his parents, and anybody else he encountered would know him from the get-go. It felt as if it would take him an hour to get there. Would it? Yes or no, it was better than riding with his producer. That was an option, but he wasn't taking it. He wouldn't even be caught dead near the guy. 

You might not want to hear about his walk. Nothing happens and he doesn't do anything interesting.

Inside the facility's waiting room sat a cube equipped with mechanisms for fidgety people. If this was where the individuals associated with a music label went, there was no reason for it to be here. The only purpose it served was coloring up the room, which was entirely white. Ikkan nervously tugged at his tie, waiting for his cue to go wherever else. Someone called his name, giving him enough relief to breathe normally. His assigned person was a purple sea spider named Latreille. Her wiry hair was long enough to cover her face and half of her torso, and her eyes were barely being visible through it. She smiled and waved. Obviously, she had multiple hands that were as gangly as her. When she waved, her fingers were all together.

"Why not have a seat, Mr. Ikkan? I know you'd get tired of standing."

An honorary tag? He'd never been called something so formal.

This room was quite cold and all-white as well. Windows were visible, making the room a bit nicer. Latreille offered to close the blinds, nicely enough. She read over her clipboard.

"Oh, dear. I don't think you've done any of this, have you?"

"No. Not to that extent."

She frowned, pacing around the room. What that paper suspected of Ikkan was very serious. He said the things already established were exaggerated, so what exactly did he do to tick off his boss so much to the point he'd detail things like this?

"Well, why would they think so?"

Eille focused on him some more. The clipboard accused him of getting violent with a producer and verbal abuse, with lots of speculation notes. Without proof, there was no way to know he could've done this. He looked normal enough, and she didn't know what a Squid Squad was since 75% of her schedule consisted of working here. She walked closer, nearly tripping on her heels.

"Is it okay if I look at you a little closer?"

He nodded. She bent down and excitedly looked up, grabbing his face. Nothing about him screamed 'violent', but something could've made someone think so. Her hands reached for his chin, examining his facial hair, and following her words, this was the sign of someone rough. She looked very enamored with it. The way her multiple hands all writhed on that area of his face almost tickled. One pair of hands grabbed it, smoothing it down to the tip, Eille watching with delight as it sprung to life again.

"Wow. Maybe _this_ is the source of suspicion," She pushed herself up, straightening her skirt. "I'm really sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"Don't mind it. I get this a lot."

She looked at her paper again.

"What happened?"

"I'd be here all day if I told you."

"And then you'd have to kill me?" she giggled, clasping all of her hands together.

Ikkan didn't know what to say. He was just really tired at this point, so he forced a laugh and nodded again.

"Maybe. How long with this be going for?"

"Ah, just until I check off everything on the list."

The clumsy sea dweller checked her paper again until her phone rang. It was old, something the humans would've used. From the looks she made, this call wasn't anything good. Ikkan wanted to ask what was wrong, but she smiled. Nervously. 

"It's fine. No need to worry."

He was shortly excused, but it didn't feel right. He felt weird having remorse for some random lady he'd met not even an hour ago. She came and went, what was his deal? Before he could get into it, he stopped. He was back home, thank god. Another girl was waiting inside for him, smiling politely. She stared up at him, then wiped her mouth.

"That was bothering you, wasn't it?"

"Your mouth's all red."

"I know."

Raspberries were her favorite fruit. She'd go through half a pack in less than a day. Either that or the packs were so hopelessly small.

"What happened there?"

"She touched my face."

"That always happens to you, doesn't it?"

She ate them so much that everybody would leave them alone. At night, it was likely for someone to see her eating them and doing nothing else. They were her comfort food.

"Why do you look so sad?"

"It's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

Eating too many of one thing can make you sick.

"Was she nice?"

"Very. I liked her, and," He touched the same spot she had. "She was very nice."

"You have a crush on her, don't you?"

Namida gave him a hug, smiling. She remarked about how soft his shirt was, getting her sweet, mind-numbing gushiness all over it. 

"So soft..." she babbled. "Did she ever get around to pinching your cheeks?"

"I don't think anybody does that anymore."

There was a joke among Namida and Ikkan only about how slightly chubby he was. Not in any place, but in general. He looked skinny, yet he wasn't entirely so. His cheeks were the most prominent example of this. He tried to push back, but she only nudged closer to him, putting her head up under his chin. Despite not having much mass, Ikkan was treated like a pillow by his whole band. They clung onto him as if he was their only hope, and--in a funny sort of sense--he was.

"What time is it, Nami?"

"I think it's four. Maybe there are clouds outside. Pretty ones!"

"Hm?"

She opened the blinds, revealing a sherbet-like sky. Ikkan hadn't bought that for the house, though. He never ate anything fun, like cake or cupcakes of anything of the sort. Some exceptions were made, and he was mostly a chocolate type of guy.

"Would you like to look at them with me?"

"No. I'm not one to really...watch clouds. I'll just head to bed."

"Awww. Are you sure?"

"I've already been through enough to call it a day."

He changed and wrapped himself up in the sheets. His eyes closed, thinking about how much better his dreams would be than his real-life predicament.

And then it was ten o'clock. The same night. He had left again, to the disappointment and confusion of everybody else. Understandably, he was upset about being called now. The call with his producer was no better. This had to be a way to get back at him. A strict looking lionfish had just pulled him in, criticizing what he wore off the bat. He was slightly offended.

"I get it. You're _that_ guy. Squid Squad?"

"Mhm."

"Makes sense. 'Splains the way you dress, too. Still, you're unlike any other squid or kid that's come in here before."

At least he got some credit. This instructor got a more detailed clipboard, and Ikkan swore he heard some obscenities muttered under her breath when she read it. Her teeth were sharper than his, revealed when she smiled, and she sat back down. She read it over repeatedly, grinning more and more each time.

"You did all this?" she chuckled. "There's no way. That's hilarious!"

"I didn't, actually."

"Whether you did or you didn't, I have to 'examine' you, or whatever."

With that being the only warning, she got right to it. Her eyes lingered on his ears, their proportions more amusing than the accusations. Malicious intent was ignited in her head. She sauntered over to the clueless one, grabbing an ear between two fingers. Evidently, these were hilarious, as she couldn't stop herself from wheezing. The only thing she really knew about inklings were their music, fashion, and hunger for what was essentially murder. Due to this, Ikkan was a hands-on lesson.

He tried his best to stop squirming, exerting that energy by tapping his foot. All the while, the lady near him kept playing with his ears. They twitched, which was uncontrollable, giving her more of a grin. His hair was a minor point, and probably not even required for her to touch. She squished and poked, cocking her head many different ways to get a better look. Her main focus was on the style itself, to which she gave a backhanded compliment. 

"Tough, aren't ya?"

She was still staring, and a response back was unexpected.

"Are you mocking me?"

"Me? I would if it would get me paid more," she sneered. "I'm just a 'regulator' for these bands, don't look at me!"

How could she give a response like this to a four-word question? If her pent up hatred for likely everything wasn't obvious then, it was now.

"Do you usually get called this late?"

"Considering you're here at this time, now we're both even."

"Why did it have to be this time?"

"I'm a last resort for people like you. Just some sort of throwaway," She shrugged. "That shark guy said it was an emergency." 

She moved on to his teeth, even giving a (hopefully) sincere warning before she got the gloves out. His mouth was the next and most important pit stop. Checking it gave Ikkan another explanation as to why he was here ever and at all, but it was something to do with squids being predators. What was the difference between him and a predatory squid? Bloodlust?

"One last question. Did Latreille do this too? She was the last one you were with. I see her a lot."

"She really only touched my face," he swallowed, too embarrassed to go into full detail. "But that's it."

Her nametag hung from her neck as she crouched, preparing to go through with the procedure. Ikkan tried to read it as silently as he could. Lu-nu-la-ta. It was pretty, but didn't distract him from the fingers that distended his mouth. His tongue was pulled at as he thought about Lunulata's name again. 

"Guess you're not used to this, huh?"

He couldn't even say any easy words coherently, causing her to laugh. That was actual mockery. She watched with even more pleasure while continuing to play with him. Out of sheer coincidence, Latreille stopped by, pressing her face against the window and beaming.

"Hi, Lunu! What are you doing?"

"I'm just examining the Squid Squad guy."

"Oh, fun! Hi, Ikkan!"

"Hello."

Doing a double-take, Lunu coaxed an answer out of Eille about why she was there. Fitting her shy and clumsy nature, she said she forgot something. Lunulata yanked her fingers out of his mouth right when Latreille went out of view. She popped off her gloves, throwing then into the trash with a disgusted grunt. Unfortunately, this wasn't over. A fresh pair of gloves stretched over her hands, and one now had a q-tip. Her hands were jammed back in, with the cotton bud almost reaching the back of Ikkan's throat. She grated it against his cheek and put it in a bag.

"Don't worry," she grumbled. "I think this is weird too. This shark guy really needs some mental evaluation."

With a cheer, she took off her second pair of gloves.

"Well, you're free to go. See you never?"

Ikkan nodded.

"See you never."

The door creaked open. Ikkan glanced at different parts of the living room. Stars could be seen out the window. How did he manage to come back this late, and just how long had they kept him there for? He whistled upstairs, but nobody came running down or fell into his arms. Usually, his band would rush down the steps. At this point, calling for them wouldn't help either. He stepped back, putting his coat by the door.

If the house was this silent, they usually would've left for a tour or advertisement pitch. Pictures of successful ones were hung up in the hallway. One had them all in snow gear, another having them in Famitsu brand clothing. Every room had its door closed except for Ichiya's. He would, of course, never do this, and seeing him not in bed or anywhere else was alarming. There wasn't any sign of him downstairs, so where was he? 

A walk further down revealed that Ikkan's room was open a smidge. Ichiya was stretched out on his bed, almost as lanky as the person who owned it. His limbs were twisted in all sorts of ways, making it even more obvious that he didn't have any bones. Though the shirt he was wearing fit him well, half of his body was still exposed. The covers did a lazy job of hiding it. 

Ikkan reached out to pinch his cheek as he stared into his unopen eyes. His hair was still tied up. Unfortunately, this had to be the only time during this week that either of them had felt peace.

This was absolutely adorable, but he still needed somewhere to sleep, and the other's bed was, somehow, way too small for him. He couldn't even get his feet inside the sheets.

He cautiously slipped beside him, making sure to avoid any limb he saw. Since Ichiya was sleeping upside down, he couldn't pull up the covers without suffocating him. Maybe he'd wake up and exit on his own. Messing with him again, Ikkan poked Ichiya numerous times. He shook his head and looked around. His voice could barely make noise louder than a whisper, so he turned himself upright and looked at the owner of the bed he was sharing.

"Ikkan?"

"...Hey."

"What're you doing back so late?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"Oh."

He sat up, his feet hanging off the bedside, then turned around.

"Why did you leave?"

"I had to. It was..." His voice trailed off, as he didn't know what to say anymore. 

Empathy was something he barely worked on, but there was something special about his band. 

"I missed you," said Ichiya.

Loving the band so much was expected since he was in it. The way Ichiya acted was a major factor. His guitarist was a legal adult, yet naive and innocent. However, he was teenage, justifying his scarce egomania. 

"Is this about the-"

"It isn't about anything. Just go back to sleep."

And then there were three. Ikkan, Ichiya, and overwhelming silence. The younger one began to walk away, leaving a window of opportunity for an apology. Ikkan did what he never thought he had to. He got up and grabbed Ichi's shoulder, making him freeze in place.

"I'm sorry, Ichi. Didn't mean to snap at you."

Ichiya looked back with mild confusion, mostly because he didn't want an apology, nor did he need it. If anything, he'd be mad about a late-night examination of every body part he had as much as Ikkan was.

"What are you apologizing for? That wasn't mean at all. Where did you go, anyway?"

"Somewhere. Producers orders."

"I knew it!" He hugged the older man.

Just like that, he was gone. At least Ikkan could relearn what personal space was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys didn't think I died, right?


	9. Squidspotting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note before you jump in: this is not that good. It's a shorter chapter, but not as short as a sub-chapter. Consider this canon or don't. There may be spelling mistakes, but I really couldn't care enough. I'm putting this out at 8:32 in the evening.

Namida got quite a shock when her band’s frontman came back with fear in his eyes. His heavy breathing filled the atmosphere with dread. Another squid walked out of the lobby, quite proud of himself after winning a game and getting into an altercation after the battle. Nami had seen it before she went outside, and it involved no weapons, instead using hands. She didn’t hear or see much, but it was something about Squid Squad being disliked by this particular person. Her voice switched to a passive tone, asking what was wrong. He failed to respond but took a quick glance behind his shoulder.

“Could we take this somewhere else?”

"Somewhere else?"

To help her, he put a finger up to his lips. Surprisingly, that was all it took.

“Oh," She nodded. "I see what you mean.”

The voices that bumbled about battles got quieter as they walked somewhere. Conveniently, barely anyone was around. Where they walked past would've had more of a population. Instead, they crowded around the lobby. This moment was what the Squid Sisters would’ve called a rush hour. She repeated her ever-so-lingering question, and Ichiya pointed to his neck, confirming what the girl of the group feared most. This had already occurred once before, why again? She asked him if it was true. His response set off the entire conversation.

“Would I lie about that?”

The way he talked was strained now, but he didn’t cry. He didn’t do anything. He *couldn’t* have. Namida shook her head, giving the guitarist a hug. She leaned on his shoulder as he told her he had more to say. People couldn’t find out about all this drama out of nowhere, and just the thought of it made him twitch with nervousness. Their final spot was a place they could sit and lean against a wall. The cafe above them had quite a strong smell today. What were they making in there?

Namida drowsily bumped her head against the bricks.

“You know we’re gonna have to tell Ikkan about this, right?”

Even hearing the implication that anybody else would find out sent him into mass panic. He clutched her shirt and she jerked upright.

“Please,” he whimpered. "Don't tell him about this."

“That doesn't make any sense. You’re gonna let your attacker go unscathed?”

“I’m better off leaving him alone. Do you know what he’ll do?! He’s gonna kill him!”

Her eyes grew wide. “I don’t think he’ll do that.”

Ichiya gave her a look filled with doubt, then turned away.

“Come on, Ichi. You’ve got to believe me. This is serious.”

“If news gets out about this, we’re dead.”

“Don’t say that. Let’s go tell him.”

It took him a few seconds before he nodded.

“Good.”

Namida crept into the house while holding Ichiya's hand, spotting Ikkan eating something out of a bag. He almost choked on his food when the door opened, sputtering violently and then shutting up. In front of the table stood a sweet-looking girl in a purple shirt—

“Sorry about that. I was wondering where you two...”

—And a wide-eyed, nervous boy in an olive green coat.

“Are you both okay? You’re sure you didn’t get into any trouble?”

“We promise, Ikkan.”

The boy in the coat nodded his head wildly after the girl responded. He stood with his hands behind his back as if he was a little child trying to hide something from his parents. Ikkan didn’t buy any of this, but he didn’t want to press the issue at a time like this. Everybody needed to get settled first. Ichiya grabbed something small. A while back, he’d gotten a cake slice from somewhere at random. This would be delicious enough to calm his nerves. 

Ikkan and Namida were stuck to sharing one plastic bag full of raspberries. With that, everybody could eat something of substance. The table didn’t move, but everybody at it could feel the underlying tension rumble it. Ichiya kept quivering, soon putting his fork down and pecking at the wood.

“Ichiya.”

The call of his name sucked him out of his daze. He looked up at the purple raspberry muncher, rubbing his eyes.

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry to be so persistent, but you look upset. You can tell me what happened if anything did.”

Ichiya was silent.

“Ichi?” Namida waved her hand in from of his face. “Helloooo? Are you there?”

She uttered words of encouragement as Ichiya fought to keep his eyes focused. The only thing that got his attention was a stroke of the cheek. Namida was the second stabilizer of the group, and that definitely wasn't a thrown-around title. Somehow, she convinced Ichiya to confess what happened with the softness of her voice. Like he did last time, he pointed to his neck. He could see something snap inside Ikkan, but it was likely just drowsiness passing through the house. All the food, since everybody was somehow done already, was pushed into the trash with a hint of aggression.

“Namida,” he huffed, trying to keep his composure. “Go upstairs.”

Namida squinted.

“Now, please.”

That’s when her mind clicked. She hurried off, not even hesitating to look back. After that wholesome exchange, Ikkan turned around to reveal a face of badly restrained fury. Even with the shark threat, this was the first time he’d ever been seen like this in front of *anybody*. The expression made Ichiya stifle a gasp. This was only part of it.

“Let me get this straight. You got choked, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you saw who it was?”

Ichiya nodded like he was playing the part of the guilty child again.

“Alright. Got it. Good.”

He watched the squid fidget once more.

“Anything else?”

The question dissipated into the air. Ichiya took a deep breath, barking out a response.

"You want to kill him, don't you?

“Kill him?”

With a cold stare and an even colder delivery, he confirmed the suspicions.

“He was only messing around, nothing else.”

That quip earned him two immobilized hands. Ikkan, standing by his chair, was holding both of them tenderly, like a parental figure. 

“Look at me,” he instructed. His tone was sweeter. Ichiya swallowed as he made eye contact. He intensified his staring. His teeth were noticeably grinding against one another. Eye contact in a situation like this made the victim feel nauseous, even holding back a surge of bile.

“If somebody ever, and I mean ever, hurts you like that again, tell me.”

“Why should I? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“We’re both on the same page.”

He said he didn’t need to worry much about getting hurt. Even if he wasn’t that large, he had the possibility to hit hard and had some experience with select weapons.

“Are you sure?” croaked Ichiya.

“I promise.”

He stopped smiling. This was a bad sign.

“I’m going to ask you again. Who is he?”

Cheerful facades like this couldn’t fool the frontman. Gullible he was, but not to that extent. He pulled away from Ikkan, crossing his arms. Tears were starting to take shape, but he did nothing to stop it. If he was going to cry, he'd accept the sadness only so Ikkan could see how much damage he was doing.

“This is for your own good, Ichiya.”

“For my own good?! You don’t have to kill someone to do me any justice! Just...”

His voice suddenly cut short. It was like he couldn’t speak anymore.

"Why can't you nurse me back to health? It'd be nice to do that instead."

When there was no response, Ichiya got nervous. Explaining things would fix the situation!

"He was about the same age as me, and probably immature, as you'd say-"

Ikkan did that same look again, but his anger was more visible. His teeth grated against one another, but he still smiled. Immediately after the 'same age as me' information, he knew he got his ticket to pulverize the arrogant eight-legged egoist until he was just like his ancestors. He got closer to Ichiya, who was nearly shaking. Any witness could've seen all the brutality in his mind flash in his eyes. Ichiya pushed in his chair, peering into them. Though their goals were different, they'd both had enough.

"If this is really all for me, why can't we not do anything?"

"Do you not know what happened?"

"I know what happened!" he barked. "I'm tired. Just hug me already."

Was that the first time he snapped at Ikkan? Whatever the case, he was stunned. He didn't want to reflect too hard, since he knew that could create more problems, so he followed orders. The youth was lazily held in his arms. Ikkan asked if he could handle himself well and if he was sure of it. Getting choked was nothing small, but Ichiya quickly countered that, telling him not to care.

"I want to make sure you're okay, is all."

Ichiya tightened the hug, gripping the back of Ikkan's shirt. "We don't have to deal with this. I could just fall asleep with you."

He blushed. "Me?"

This came out of nowhere, but he wouldn't pass up the opportunity. Without warning, they both settled on the couch. Though he was fond of the idea, Ichiya couldn't fall asleep at all. In fact, he looked more than concerned. His eyes didn't have the exhaustion they did before. They darted every which way as he nestled against into Ikkan's ribs, or where they would be. It wasn't until he tried to rest that he vocalized his problems.

"I'm scared."

"You're scared?" He pulled him closer. "If it's any consolation, he can't hurt you here."

"Yeah, right."

"I'm serious. As long as you're in my arms, you're safe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALLLLLRIGHT I just realized that ribs are bones, so Ikkan realistically wouldn’t have them.


	10. Gutted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's that 'Hightide Era (Splatoon)' I was talking about.

The TV buzzed as it showed another movie. Unenjoyable to say the least, but the one who turned it on couldn't eat without watching something. Multitasking was half of their job. Midnight struck while they slurped up another noodle. What were they doing awake? Doing here? With their life? Sleep was inevitable at this time. Was this an out-of-body experience?

Once they finished eating, they put all their stuff away, turned off the movie, and stared at the inactive television. They sat neatly and politely but still slouched. A light turning on by the stairs caught only a quarter of their attention. Still, their brain longed for any kind of engagement, so they looked for a while. Eyes take time to take in light.

"Kuze?"

"Taka? What are you doing down here?"

"I could say the same for you."

He frowned. "It's midnight. I went to sleep at nine, like a normal person."

This happened too many times for either of them to count. Kuze tended to chastise Taka for his sleeping habits. Being a trio and not a quartet, they didn't have a second person to rely on for sanity. Taka was not a morning person. At all. He hated everybody who was because he wasn't them. He'd never have a good night's sleep in the next whenever. 

"Why don't you sleep regularly?"

"Dunno. Not a morning person. I hate morning people."

"You hate them because they're better than you, right?"

"I don't know who you got that from," He smiled. "You're not wrong, though."

Kuze shook his head. 

"That's no way to live. I'm going back to bed. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Now he was alone at the mercy of his thoughts. His brain was mush, all in knots. He had time to think, but for what? Did he even think? All he did was sing and play the piano. Even so, it brought him such joy. Music was his pride, and he wanted to do more, but he couldn't. His ideas stumbled upon themselves. He was an academic student for a good period of time, there was no excuse for him to be this horrible at handling them.

So he settled on making something else. A demo. Something different entirely. And he would do it tomorrow, of all days. Tomorrow as in the day after he woke up. It was midnight, so the next day was already here. If his goal were to be better, he'd acknowledge it the day after, make an attempt for a while, and drop it entirely. His mind would make fun of him if he didn't do anything, but all he needed to do was make something better.

At sunrise, he saw the same white ceiling he was used to in any other context, but he was back in bed. His forehead was the receiver of any information, that being in the form of a note stuck on. That was snatched away and read over quickly. Due to just waking up, he couldn't process anything. A smiley face rested at the bottom for taunting purposes since that was the only area he could translate. Parts of his brain were scrambled and airborne. When his eyes adjusted, he read.

_I thought I'd put you in bed. You were a bit tired, and I knew that, so I came back and gave you the rest you deserve._

Playing the game of the process of elimination was easy here. Nishida wasn't that strong, and if he was, he wouldn't do this. He'd be asleep long before then. Kuze did do this, but why? What did he gain from giving someone else any sort of aid instead of just going back to sleep himself? Taka stared at the tiny transcript as he thought through how he felt about it.

Numbness filled his brain leaving an aftertaste of sadness. Somewhere inside, through all that snarkiness and instrumental skill, he still had a good heart Who would he be to tell himself he was bad at things? Well, he'd be who he was normally. And now he was sat on his bed, exhilarated with the idea of voiding his brain altogether. He was a piano-playing fish, his bare essentials.

His heart sat him upright, forcing him to go thank Kuze. Any instances of kind words entering his mind were immediately drained away with mean ones. They weren't exactly for Kuze, as even that was too rude and unprovoked, plainly for himself. Feet and limbs moved across the floor, not thinking about their pace or how they were being controlled by anything other than the brain. Outside of his room was where they stopped, knocking then waiting courteously. 

Kuze was even sleepier than he had been coming downstairs, but he still smiled at the sight of Taka. 

"Good morning."

"Hello," He awkwardly got out the note. "Thank you for this."

"Oh. That. I _was_ a little sleepy when I wrote it, so my name isn't on there. Anything else?"

"Nothin' really. I'm just thinking about a little music demo."

Telling someone else about his woes pulled them into it. Kuze, however, was reliable. He was absolutely nice.

"Music demo? We've already made some music, I think we're done for now."

"No, I know, I'm just saying that-"

What he said lingered in his mind and left his brain in a strange state. He stopped for a bit.

"I'm happy, very happy, with what we got. You can always make more, but I think you've already done well."

"...Thank you."

He closed the door and moved forward, freezing at another room. Taka looked inside. The only thing notable was Nishida using his laptop to do something. Squiggly lines filled the screen, confusing anyone else who would've walked by. He sulked in to interrogate.

"What's that you're doing?"

He pointed at his computer. "Japanese."

"Japa-what?"

"An old language. I heard it'll come in handy. Soon, I'll write my name in it, too."

"Who learns Japanese?"

The herring proudly pointed to himself. If he started speaking weirdly, at least Taka knew it would be Japanese. He didn't know anybody who'd carry pride in something like that except for Nishida. And even then, was he serious about it? Sentiments like this one could be terrible, but there was a point where he could almost predict what weird thing Nishida would do next. 

"You could join me if you want."

In retrospect, Japanese didn't seem too bad. Music could wait, it could certainly wait, and building bonds could happen now.

"I'd like to _watch_ you, I guess."

"That sounds nice. Why would you want to do that, though?"

Overexertion is a practice nobody should attempt on themselves. Torture only scratches the surface. Putting your creativity to the test is always a good start, merely not in this way. With that, he threw it all away. No more demos and no more on-and-offs. Force isn't a good thing to use in any other context but here, he was himself again. 

"No reason."

And thank god.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In all honestly, I'm glad I wrote in the boys. Besides, other than this chapter, they only got a passing mention (with Kuze not even getting a line) all the way back in Shark. So, I gave the people what they wanted.


	11. Memorial

'I'm sorry' was all he had to say. The previous feelings had gotten to him for a while, with the changing of parts and common mutual agreement. All he did was sit in silence, and while he did like it, he longed for something different. By now, skipping past all the evaluations and such, the news played with different hosts, but still on the same channel. An announcement nobody could've seen coming.

Booyah Base was shutting down. That would've been it, had it been some sort of store and not the big city that every inkling dreamed about. Just his luck. Heart weighing him down, he ventured off to go find his so-called permanent guitarist. Like always, he hooked the clueless boy on his finger, bringing him into a secluded area, that being the couch, the same childlike eyes staring right at him, going to hurt lots more when the spark inside went out. Even cult leaders wouldn't have this much worship around them. 

Solemnly, he sighed and began.

"I don't think I can do this anymore."

Ichiya spoke in that adorable tone he always did. "Really? You're breaking up the band?"

"Listen, I know it comes as a shock, but I didn't want things to suddenly fall apart. It would be better to go the easy way out."

"Easy way," he repeated. "I think I get it."

He, despite his charm, didn't get it. Ikkan, however, could point out what exactly happened with the band, and more so Ichiya. First, he'd take up parts and get upset when they weren't his. Then he wouldn't listen to Ikkan whenever he made suggestions, inside of music and out. Finally, he really meant what he said about the easy way. Things would get more than bumpy if he did this later and not now, yet he still couldn't rid himself of any leftover guilt. That boy in front of him was so torn, so sad, he just had to be. Over time, he actually did get somewhat better.

Ikkan brought him in for an unexpected hug, patting his back. Nobody cried, but he wasn't taking chances. He didn't want to let go.

"You know, Ikkan, I think you've done enough now."

"You're fine, Ichi. I know this is tearing you up. Everything's gonna be okay."

Now he was just putting words in his mouth for no reason. There was a 'but' somewhere, surely he'd find it later. This was just comforting him. 

"Could you please let go? I kind of have to tell the others about this."

"I just want to hold you for a bit. Make sure you're okay, of course."

This grip was akin to a Chinese finger trap, where struggling only brought a tighter grasp. He finally let go.

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay? We do have to leave town soon."

"You'll be with me on the trip, of course I will!"

Color filled his cheeks, causing him to duck under his sweater after Ichiya left. It was then that Namida had stopped by the door, seeming miffed if anybody were to go by her body language.

"I heard about what you did."

"Harsh move, I know. You can hate me if you want."

"Hate? I understand what you mean! No harm done."

She stepped out of the shadows, revealing a happy face.

"I'm sure Ichiya understands, doesn't he?"

Ikkan looked at his feet.

"Even if he did, I don't think I could feel any better."

"Come on, we all forgive you! We couldn't have a better bassist."

Namida's words were something anybody should've taken to heart, but any sensible person would know that was on a list of things Ikkan couldn't do. In fact, he couldn't take any compliment seriously and always believed it was a lie, and not even his parents were exempt from this rule. Without music, he'd have the personality of a brick. Even then, he was a brick with a bass guitar strapped on. Stepping right on him was quite easy. One could even see the footsteps on him. If he and nobody else took the fall, it was all good.

"Would you like me to walk you to the bus?"

A stormy cloud of emotions solemnly nodded, grabbing the hand of a radiant beam of sunshine. With this much contrast, it was a wonder how this band stayed together for so long. She called for the others to pack, with his frowny face getting worse and worse. When they were done, the only thing left was a couch and the other typical studio equipment. Two days before this, someone had randomly vacuumed the carpet.

Out they headed, seeing the empty newsroom, shops, and a cleared out, closed up lobby. Teenagers were too busy saying goodbye to notice Squid Squad, who slipped right by them with ease. Almost coincidentally, nobody else was on their bus. Here was where the confessions would spill.

"Alright. On the count of three, admit anything you have to say."

His dedicated trio of followers nodded their heads in uncanny unison. One, two, three.

"I think this is a good thing. Time heals all wounds, things have to change!"

"I don't wanna leave Booyah Base."

"I've never been disappointed in any of you."

"You guys are the coolest!"

When did Namida start to be so philosophical? Ichiya and Murasaki were all praise, too. They deserved it, but he didn't. He didn't care about that, though, just pulling Ichiya into another embrace, the remaining two joining in with a harder squeeze, quite abrupt. Ikkan was left alone with his favorite while the others boarded.

"Why don't we get on now?"

"Now? Can't we look back at everything that's here?"

"That'll just make you sadder. I won't leave you for the entire trip, I promise."

Easily convinced, he was in his seat in no time, and more voices could be heard outside too. Others strolled by, but only one of them sat down to talk before skipping off: Noiji. It was nice to see Ichiya being somewhat happy before the inevitable sadness. They exchanged greetings, then gifts. Ichiya rested on his side, examining contently before Ikkan came to bother him.

"What'd you get?"

"A thank you note. Some candy, too."

The quotes were there, he felt that he knew what to say, but he didn't, and at that moment, his eyes were surprisingly not green.

"Must be nice."

_I could've done it better._

Two bickering bandmates came from behind a curtain.

"So _you_ got off the bus because you don't like public transport."

"...I did. Am I supposed to apologize now?"

"With what happened, I feel as if you're almost obligated to! Do you know what you missed?!"

Some swears were stated, and everybody already knew who was doing it.

"Why don't you just calm down?"

"Fine! Fine."

Miraculously, that was the end of it. Hissing and sputtering gave way to the beginning of their trip. Some were less than pleased, and nobody else could blame them. This wasn't their childhood hometown, but it felt like they'd been there forever, and they should've been able to stay. Those old, dusty windows were still clear about just what they were leaving behind; previously a base, now a memory. It made all four of them stop in their tracks.

"Since we're here, we might as well roll call one last time. Namida?"

"Here!"

"Good. Ichiya?"

He didn't say anything, timidly raising his hand.

"Great. All we need is Mura. Murasaki?"

Murasaki was asleep, the others looking his way.

"Hm. Saw that coming. Goodnight, Murasaki."

Surprising no one, Ichiya was still nervous. Whimpers and mewls wove their way into his breath, abruptly shattering when a commanding voice came by, stopping all his movements.

"Everything will sort itself out."

"But you'll be gone."

"Even when I am, I promise never to ditch you."

One last thank you was given, and he drifted off, leaving only two of the four left to discuss everything that would clutter their minds until they met up again. On the route had them pass advertisements for bands, a discarded tour poster or two, and even a few weapons. Then, onto grass and nothing but. Next was a bridge, where the salty sea was just begging to get inside. Namida fogged up the windows leaning against them, showing signs of drowsiness. Murasaki was sitting down with the plainest look on his face. Ichiya was resting his head in Ikkan's lap unknowingly, while the latter was stroking his head. How long would this take, again? Slowly, Ikkan felt his eyes flutter, and he fell quiet as well.

⚦

Loud screeching filled the atmosphere, not even making the ones already asleep flinch, and that only meant one thing. Ikkan got up, oversized sweater, clunky shoes, and bulky case included, just like the first time.

"Huh. Looks like this is my stop. Goodbye, Namida."

That was terrible! These kids, who had to spend most of their recent time with a leading man, would wake up with him gone! Whatever would they do?!

"Later."

Her endless staring out of the window was combined with a fresh, comforting breeze, but it only served to make her sadder. To give her one last hope for the future, he raised his hand and smiled. And, for his sake, she smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, friends.


	12. Half-Sibling

Home was their next stop. That is if they ever got to it. Today was chilly, but it was no matter, as no snow was falling, and only light wind was blowing, making clouds form in weird ways. Teenagers and adults walked by, conversing about the sparkling stuffies and the disgustingly sweet pastries and gifts. Down below, two halves of a whole idiot sat on a bench, wondering if they'd get up and go home or not, nevermind when they would. The way the misfits sat obviously began to take a toll on them. One could feel his fist boring into his cheek, and the other was on the verge of unconsciousness. A single balloon was sat in the middle of the two. Sweet and salty smells wormed their way into the noses of everyone.

"How long have we been here?"

"No clue," He looked up. "The sun's been melting my brain for the past hour."

"At least I'm getting sun at all."

Up until now, the balloon was weighed down by a squid-shaped plastic chip, its rigid, purple edges scraping against either pale or dark skin. Then, Warabi thought of something. Even if Ikkan wasn't so bulky, his forearms certainly were. Soon, the chip was in between the wooden slats of the bench, and the string was on his forearm.

"There we go! All better."

Ikkan looked at his arms with disdain.

"But my arms are too small."

"It won't float off, though, right?"

Wind blew again after that, only accentuating the silence. For such an exciting place, there sure was a lot of that. In the midst of their non-conversation, beautifully sparkling rainbow-colored stuffed animals with fluffy fur caught Warabi's eye and burrowed their way into his head, and he could feel them speaking to just him. They were glowing with an irresistible aura. He tugged on the balloon's string and drew Ikkan's attention to them.

"See?" he whispered. "They're so pretty..."

"Those? You can go get one if you want, but I think they're too bright-"

"I'll be back! Could you keep this on so I know where you are?"

"Gotcha."

Warabi sped off with glee, and, just then, Ikkan felt someone run right into his back, falling to the ground with a yelp. Being too nice and polite for his own good, he was ready to say sorry but froze when he saw who it was. Blue tentacles, strange beak arrangement, child-like demeanor, cargo shorts...

"Ichi?"

Ichiya slowly uncovered his face, staring upward. A tall, pale, wiry man was up above, initially almost frightening him. Normally, this *would* be terrifying, except that's always how he was, only a bit different this time. It took him a moment to calm down from seeing such a strange, uncanny squid, but he was pleased to see him at all. After everything else, it was thought he'd gone off the grid seemingly forever.

"Ikkan! I'm so happy you're here."

Without warning, he ran right into his arms and gave him a squeeze. The unexpecting one pat his head, unsure of what else to do.

He scratched the back of his head and muttered, "What would you like to talk about?"

"I'm not sure. I'm too excited to even think."

Again, he stopped and gathered his thoughts. Inside of his brain, the 'remorse' button was pushed. His actions may not have said so, but he really missed those dorks. Those adorable dorks.

"I'm really sorry for ditching you, Ichi. I might've lied back on that bus trip."

"What do you mean? It's no big deal! You seemed busy, and I really like your songs. I bought all of 'em to boot! Namida loves your stuff, too."

Namida? That's someone he hadn't thought about in a long time. 

"By the way," he blurted. "Have you been thinking about Namida and Murasaki? They haven't seen you in a while."

"Not really. I was occupied."

"That's fine. Anyways..."

'Occupied' was obviously not the right word, but still, it was able to fool him. While Ichiya listed off every single thing he did for Diss-Pair (and its bassist, in specifics), Ikkan got more and more flustered. Maybe he *did* share the same feelings. Not that they were romantic, of course, but any sort of attention. He had a habit of sucking up to anyone who gave him any. Suddenly, he stumbled, landing his head right on Ichiya's shoulder, only getting off the hook because he didn't care, with even his response being too good to be true.

"Know what, Ikkan? You're strangely passive. I thought you'd just hate everyone when I first met you, but you're just...there. I love it!"

"Passive? Are you sure?"

"Of course! You're, like, a gentle giant, like a dog. A big dog! An adorable one, too."

The compliments kept flying at him, and Ikkan felt his face pulled closer to the soft one beside him by an invisible hand. He got close enough to make contact, and to make matters worse, his lips pressed against the other's cheek. Strangely, he was unable to pull away, and his heart began to race to the point where he could barely breathe, so he quickly backed off. Why were these feelings so strong? Even if this was something he thought about for some time, he needed to get it together. Ichiya turned around, just as frozen as he was. Blue and purple were the only colors on their faces.

Namida still lived with him, but the affection Ichiya got dwindled the farther he drifted from Ikkan. At this point, he couldn't tell if he needed a relationship, a hug, or therapy, and it reprogrammed his brain to accept the kiss. On the other hand, Ikkan couldn't move, only uttering one word.

"Sorry."

"Oh, no, don't apologize, we're friends! It's what we do. You obviously haven't kissed someone, so think of it as practice."

"You sound like you're making excuses."

"Hmph! I promise I'm not, I don't mind at all. In fact, I have something to say to you."

Ikkan achieved affection, something he seemed to get from absolutely no one, but he was still freaking out on the inside. Should he laugh? Pinch himself, maybe?

While he was distracted, Ichiya leaned in close and whispered, "Thank you."

"For what? Any normal person would be disgusted right now."

"That doesn't matter. I'm glad I spent time with you. We should see each other again!"

"I-"

Before he could finish, Ichiya pecked him as a reward, staying a bit longer to see how he would react. As he expected, Ikkan gasped and froze entirely, struggling to say something other than: 

"You're...welcome..." 

Ichiya quickly hugged him and left to go back to his band, or at least the remains of it, leaving Ikkan purple-faced, dumbfounded, and embarrassed. He was feeling something, so that was a step up, but as far as he knew, he'd just been kissed by one of his own! That wasn't something he hated, but his body was rejecting it like he outright hated him. Coincidentally, Warabi came around as well, huge teddy bear on his back. All he could do was point and ask a question that was horrible, even ear-grating to hear.

"Are you...? I'm just curious."

"No, of course not," Ikkan stammered, fumbling with his hands. "He, uh...asked me to. It was a mutual agreement. There was this stupid thing where-"

Then, he realized that the more he tried to explain it, the deeper the hole he'd be digging himself, so he gave up and looked away.

"Nevermind. Please just ignore it."

The air went completely dead for a while until Warabi sat down, bringing up something else.

"You were with the Squid Squad guy? Oh, man, he's so cool!"

"I thought you already knew that."

"I know! I just think he's great! I'd love for him to come over sometime."

Finally, he grinned, which was quite a rare sight.

"Yeah. I'd like that a lot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, with that, I have finally finished a major work in under a year! Hurrah for me.


End file.
